


Almost-but-not-quite

by Pineau_noir



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gift Fic, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry/Draco Owlpost Fest 2020, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Time Travel, Time Turner (Harry Potter), dodgy magical theory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28099746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineau_noir/pseuds/Pineau_noir
Summary: Immediately following the Battle of Hogwarts Draco Malfoy stumbles across the last Time-Tuner in existence. He had intended to go into the past to try and right his many wrongs, but magic sometimes does what it wants. Instead of his past, he's flung far into his future where he's happily dating one Harry Potter.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 18
Kudos: 113
Collections: Harry/Draco Owlpost 2020





	Almost-but-not-quite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Titti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/gifts).



> Titti,
> 
> I loved all of your prompts, but this one _After the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco attempts to go back in time and fix things, but instead he finds himself in the future and living with Harry_ really caught my eye and ok, so it totally didn't really go the way I meant it to go, and it's the vaguest of approximation of what you asked for, so I'm sorry? But also I really enjoyed writing it for you and I hope you like it. I pulled back my fluff tendencies by like 110% and tried to write something more emotional for Harry and Draco.

Potter and his merry little band of misfits have won the war. They took down the Dark Lord and Draco doesn’t know what his future holds. He and his family are on the losing side and Azkaban looks like a strong possibility. With a deep breath, Draco looks to his father, his face grey and withdrawn and then to his mother. She, at least, is standing upright and eyeing the ruins of the castle with a calculating gaze.

“Draco,” she says softly. “I think you should probably stay. If you’re caught running, it will only make things worse.”

His breath stutters in his chest. “Are you and Father—” He can’t finish his thought.

She reaches down and grabs his hand with hers. It’s small and cool as always, but Draco can feel a slight tremor running through her body.

“We’ll be fine,” she assures him. “But you need to be seen with the winning side when the Aurors come.” Draco’s mother squeezes his hand tightly. “Go stand by the Lovegood girl,” she whispers. “I know you took her things when she was…”

With a shake of her head, she continues. “No matter. But I know she will be more receptive to your presence than most.”

Draco can feel his eyes start to prickle and his face flush. 

“Will you be OK?” 

His mother tuts at him. “We will be fine, Draco darling.” She lets go of Draco’s hand to pull his head down and kisses him between his brows. “If you’re safe and happy, there’s nothing I can’t endure.”

She pushes him towards Lovegood a little, her eyes sad, and Draco has to obey her. 

“I love you,” Draco says, walking away from her, from his father, still hunched over in defeat, from his entire _life_.

Draco thinks he hears his mother return the sentiment, but when he turns to look at her one last time, she is gone.

——

After exactly two minutes, and seven glares, Draco realises his mother has misjudged the entire situation and he’s going to land in Azkaban after all. He inches his way to the back of the crowd and returns to the castle. His left ankle hurts and he walks to the hospital wing to see if there might be a potion for pain or to clear his mind. 

He hobbles in and takes in the sight of bodies strewn on every surface in various states of distress. Backing up, yet again fleeing his situation, he bumps into a side table and hears something fall. Something shiny catches his eye and he leans down to pick it up. Draco’s breath catches when he realises it’s a Time-Turner.

Without any forethought whatsoever, Draco rotates the dingy Time-Turner in his hand. _If_ he can go back far enough, he can force himself to make the right choices— to save his parents, to flee with them before the Dark Lord regains his power and influence. Faster and faster, Draco turns the device until the scenes are shifting so rapidly his head is starting to ache.

Suddenly the Time-Turner becomes so hot that it scalds Draco’s hand and he drops it. He hears something shatter as it hits the floor. His heart rabbits in his chest before he realises where he is. Sighing with relief, Draco takes in the gleaming hospital wing, every surface shining. His knees feel weak and his eyes start to prickle again at being in the past.

Voices drift into the large room, and Draco looks frantically for a place to hide. Two large forms, both in Auror robes, turn the corner and Draco freezes in panic.

“Ah,” the shorter one says, catching sight of Draco standing motionless in the centre of the room. “I think I should leave this to you then.” He kisses the other man who has platinum blond hair, not unlike Draco’s own, and Draco notices a familiar scar on the shorter man’s forehead.

“So, Draco,” says the man with blond hair in a kind voice. “I think we have some things to discuss.”

Between the realisation that he is talking to a man who looks like an older version of himself, and the horrors of the last twenty-four hours, Draco promptly passes out. 

——

“Oh, there you are,” the man, who is almost-but-not-quite Draco, says.

“What?” Draco croaks from his hard hospital bed.

“This was so much easier when I wasn’t the adult in the situation.” 

“I don’t understand,” Draco says.

“I’m you,” almost-but-not-quite Draco says. “And you can stop calling me ‘almost-but-not-quite Draco’ in your head.” 

He pushes up his sleeve exposing the Dark Mark that’s on his arm. Then he lifts his leg and shows Draco a scar on his left ankle.

“Look down at your ankle,” he says gently. “The one that’s hurting. It’s not broken, but you have cut it quite badly.” He points at Draco’s ankle. “It scars, I’m sorry to say.”

“This is all a dream,” Draco whispers.

“No, it’s not,” almost-but-not-quite Draco says.

“Potter _kissed_ you!”

Almost-but-not-quite Draco throws back his head and laughs. Draco sits up in the bed and glares at him.

After a few moments, almost-but-not-quite Draco stops. “I had forgotten how angry I was at seeing that,” he explains. He laughs again, but this time it’s softer and more gentle. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”

“I _hate_ Potter!” Draco insists. “Also, are you wearing Auror robes? How exactly did that happen?” At that question, Draco looks significantly at his Marked arm, and then over to almost-but-not-quite Draco’s still exposed arm. 

Almost-but-not-quite Draco sighs. “I can’t tell you much,” he says. “But when you get back to the proper time, go back to Luna.” He levels Draco with an intense gaze. “Mother was right about that.”

“Is, is she—” Draco stutters out.

“She’s fine,” almost-but-not-quite Draco says with a fond smile. “And you’re going to make your headache worse if you keep calling me ‘almost-but-not-quite Draco’.”

“What shall I call you then?” Draco asks, frowning a bit.

“Do I really look like that when I pout?” almost-but-not-quite Draco asks. “No wonder Harry laughs at me.”

“You are an areshole, _other_ Draco,” Draco says. 

“Ah, it’s finally sunk in that we’re the same person.” Then other Draco _winks_. “Let me see if I can remember what other Draco told me when I was the young one.” He huffs out a breath and thinks.

“So, clearly we don’t get sent to Azkaban,” Draco says impatiently. “Judging by your outfit.”

“Yes, the incredible haute couture that is the Auror’s uniform,” other Draco answers. “And we’re with Harry, have been for a while.” He holds up his hand to stall Draco’s next question. “No, I’m not going to tell you when or how we fall for Harry, but he and I are forty now and we’ve been together for more than five years but less than twenty.” 

Draco feels his face compress into a frown. “Fine, you don’t have to tell me how or when you got together,” he says. “But—”

“But why?”

Draco nods.

“I definitely remember this part,” other Draco says with relish. “I’ve been rehearsing this speech in my head since I told Harry that this was going to happen this year.” He pauses and Draco scoots closer to other Draco, waiting on the answer.

“You remember how we always hated Harry?” At Draco’s nod, other Draco continues. “Well, it turns out that the hatred was more-or-less the armour we built around our heart after he rejected us when we were First Years. But then there’s everything else, the war, _this moment_ , blah blah blah, and we realise that maybe, _just maybe_ Harry’s not the complete tosser we always thought he was.”

“Blah, blah, blah?” Draco asks.

“It’s a Muggle thing.” Other Draco rolls his eyes. “Harry’s a nuisance.”

Shaking his head, other Draco starts speaking again. 

“Harry is — he’s this unstoppable force of nature,” he says. “He’s kind and generous, and he has a bigger heart than anyone else you will ever meet. He leaves his socks all over our flat, and when he cooks, he makes a mess that’s disproportionate to the effort, but he smiles when you compliment his food and you’ll fall more in love with him every time.”

Draco’s eyes have that gritty feeling again, like he’s about to cry, but he refuses to let himself feel soppy over _Potter_. He nods at other Draco. 

“Go on.”

“Draco,” other Draco says carefully. “Harry sees us for who we really are. He doesn’t mind our prickly edges, and I think he likes our verbal sparring more than he’ll admit. He snores and is a terrible bed-hog, but he gives us a place that finally feels like home for the first time since the war. He’s a cranky bastard before his first cup of coffee and he has terrible taste in clothes and music, but when you sleep by his side you’re going to feel safer than you ever have. I promise you, we will never be happier than I am now. He’s infuriating but he’s ours. I don’t know why he chose us, but he did and you should just accept the fact that Harry Potter is the love of our life.”

One of the tears Draco has been resolutely refusing to set free slides down his cheek. And just like that, Draco’s calm breaks. He buries his face in his hands and lets out all of the anger, the grief, the terror of the last year and sobs in a small bed in the hospital wing of Hogwarts as his forty-year-old self watches.

“It gets better,” someone else says from the corner.

Draco looks up, and through his blurry vision, he sees Potter.

“Fixed it,” Potter says, brandishing the Time-Turner awkwardly. He walks over to other Draco and pulls him from his chair and into an embrace. 

“You didn’t tell me you had a whole speech,” he says into other Draco’s neck.

“Didn’t want to spoil my moment of triumph.” 

Draco and Potter snort in unison, and then Potter glances at Draco with an odd look on his face. 

“I think it’s time to go home,” he says gently. “You’re going to be fine.”

“After years with a Mind Healer,” other Draco interjects. “But Harry’s not wrong. Go to Luna,” he says again. “She’s more forgiving than you can imagine.”

Draco gets out of the bed, flinching when he lands on his injured ankle. He takes the Time-Turner gingerly from Potter. 

“How did he fix it?” he asks other Draco, remembering the sound of glass breaking when he dropped it.

Other Draco barks out a laugh. “You know, I don’t know? I haven’t lived the part where he tells us.”

Nervously, Draco holds the now shining Time-Turner. “How will I know when to stop?” he asks Harry.

“Keep turning it until it stops,” Harry says kindly. 

Draco does as bid and in seconds, he’s back to his world, the broken, grey world where his family is in tatters and he’s alone.

“Draco,” Luna Lovegood says, appearing almost from nowhere. “I’ve been looking for you.” She pulls her wand and Draco flinches away.

“I just want to take care of your ankle,” she says softly. “You’re bleeding quite heavily. I’m afraid you’re going to have a scar.”

Draco lets out a laugh, high and hysterical. 

“What happened to me?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” she murmurs. When she’s done healing Draco’s ankle her eyes settle on the Time-Turner. “Is that a Time-Turner? I thought they were all destroyed.” She puts her wand away and asks, “Can I see it?”

Draco's immediate reaction is to pull his hands in to protect the Time-Turner, clutching it against his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” he says stiffly at Lovegood’s bemused look. “Of course you may see it.”

Lovegood takes the Time-Turner gingerly and looks at it appraisingly. “I think it’s broken,” she admits and hands it back to Draco.

Draco looks down at it and sees that she's correct and the twin hourglasses are shattered. 

Tears prick at Draco’s eyes again as he looks down at the inert object in his hand. It wasn't real. He hadn't gone into the future and seen the happiness that is to come, something he doesn't deserve. He’s going to Azkaban, he’s going to get the Kiss, he’s—

“Why does it say ‘Harry loves Draco’ on it?” Luna wonders aloud. 

Draco looks down at the Time-Turner, his emotions wavering between wonder and disbelief. But Lovegood is correct and there, in a small, messy script are the words _Harry loves Draco_. And when Draco turns it around he sees his own handwriting. _It gets better, Draco. Sincerely, Almost-but-not-quite Draco_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to the Owl Post mods again!! This has been such an enjoyable experience because of your tireless hard work! Thank you so much to my beta S, I enjoyed every note and I know this is much better because of your help. Thanks to everyone else who was so supportive while I wrote something that was very much not my usual, I appreciate you all my friends.


End file.
